After All
by Carfiniel
Summary: Sequel to "My Immortal" - Remus is still dealing with losing Sirius. Draco needs someone to reach out to him. Could it be they need each other? Part of the RemusDraco series co-written with jilly-chan.


After All 

lyrics by Dar Williams

a sequel to "My Immortal"

_Go ahead, push your luck  
Find out how much love the world can hold  
Once upon a time I had control  
And reined my soul in tight  
  
_

Remus knew he was pushing his luck.  Draco Malfoy had been a hateful git for all the years Remus had known him.  Of course, there was no room in a Malfoy's world for anything but hateful, especially when this particular Malfoy had just seen his father go to Azkaban, and watched his mother disintegrate.  Still, there was nothing for it but to try.  Obviously no one else gave a damn about Draco Malfoy—Dumbledore had never taken the first step to try to reach the boy; Minerva was too busy worrying about Harry; Harry hated Draco.  And Sirius—Remus' heart caught in his chest.  Sirius was dead, but Sirius of all people would have seen the value in saving a boy from a noble Dark Arts house.

Sirius wouldn't have been as forgiving as Remus, of course, but Sirius never had been.  Remus had learned early to forgive—partly, perhaps, because he was always afraid that he didn't quite deserve his friends, that the werewolf should be grateful that he had any friends at all, and should work very hard not to offend them.  And Sirius transgressed so very often…it had become second nature for Remus to forgive.

"And why should I listen to anything you have to say?" Draco drawled, tilting his head back and looking down his nose at Remus.  "You're not a professor anymore, are you?"

"No, Malfoy, I'm not," he replied, his voice calm.  "But I am concerned."

"I hardly see how the affairs of a Malfoy can concern a werewolf."

Remus hadn't known Harry was behind him until his surrogate godson launched himself at the blond boy.  He sighed.  It was an action worthy of Sirius—to brawl on Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, with less than a quarter hour before the Hogwarts Express pulled out.

Draco was quick with hexes, though, when there was only one Gryffindor to deal with.  When Remus pulled Harry back, his godson—did Remus really have a right to think of him thus?—was covered in purple spots.  He sighed again.  So very like Sirius, Harry was.  He cast a look over his shoulder at the retreating Malfoy.  And then again, Remus could see a bit of Sirius in that one, as well…

~*~

  
_Well the whole truth  
Is like the story of a wave unfurled  
But I held the evil of the world  
So I stopped the tide  
Froze it up from inside  
  
_

Remus didn't see Draco Malfoy again until Midwinter's Day.  He had gone back to the station to meet Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys, who were coming to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place for Christmas.  But Ron and Hermione were holding hands and giggling about something, and Remus felt a pang of loneliness run through him.  Ginny was behind them, and Harry followed her slowly, his eyes fixed on her when he thought no one was looking.

Remus stayed where he was, without calling to them, and allowed them to pass by, oblivious.  When he looked at the train again, Draco Malfoy was disembarking alone.  Crabbe and Goyle were not with him.  His robe was open in front, his school tie pulled loose as if Draco had found himself unable to breathe.  Remus swallowed against the lump in his throat.  He knew that feeling.  Had experienced it several times in the past three months.  Draco Malfoy was a young man in mourning.

Remus found himself moving forward before he realized he was going to.  He pushed past the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs exchanging final cries of "Happy Christmas!" and the anxious parents collecting their children.  Malfoy looked dead on the inside, lacklustre.  He was just standing in front of the train carriage, numb to the world passing him by.

Yes.

Malfoy saw him coming just as Remus began to wonder what he was meant to say.  The Slytherin prefect put his chin up slightly, but even as he made the gesture, he obviously wondered why the hell he was bothering.  Remus recognized that, too.

"It never gets easier," he said quietly.  "But you do get used to it."

"Sod off, Lupin," Draco growled.

He was startled into a laugh, which made Draco stare at him.  But Remus nodded slightly and turned to find his children.

~*~

_And it felt like a winter machine   
That you go through and then  
You catch your breath and winter starts again  
And everyone else is spring bound  
  
_

The next time Remus saw Draco was in Diagon Alley.  Remus had ventured out from the Order Headquarters to buy Harry's Christmas present—a present that would only have Remus' name on it, this year.  He had absolutely no idea what he should buy, because there was nothing he could give Harry that would ever make up for losing Sirius.  And there was Draco Malfoy sitting at a table outside Florean Fortescue's—never mind that it was cold and drizzly and the pavements were empty.  Remus felt a sharp pang at the idea of this young man being alone here, with the Alley all decorated for Christmas.  He went to sit at Malfoy's table.

The young man jumped and stared at Remus.  His eyes were bloodshot.  "You," he said, his voice ragged.

Remus said nothing.

"Why won't you just leave me alone?"  Malfoy's voice was more plaintive than hostile, and Remus took a deep breath and said nothing.

"What can you possibly have to say to me?" Malfoy asked, his pale eyes narrowed.

"It's all right to be haunted for a while," Remus said slowly.  "I still am."

It obviously wasn't what Malfoy had been expecting.  He reared back and regarded Remus with a look that was almost frightened—if a Malfoy ever showed fear.

"I lost him to Azkaban, the first time."  Remus spoke softly, as if to himself, but he hoped Draco was listening.  It appeared as if he were.  "Everyone thought he'd betrayed James and Lily, and I was fool enough to believe them, instead of believing in _him._"  He shook his head.  "I used to have nightmares about it.  Sirius, locked up in that place.  Unable to even remember how much I—"

Draco made a small noise, whether of disgust or impatience, Remus couldn't tell.  "It's so cold," the young man whispered.  "So dark, and so cold."  Remus knew he didn't mean the winter.

"Sirius came from an old house," he said at last.  "The old and noble house of Black, whose son Regulus tried to escape from the evils he had done, and was executed by the Death Eaters.  And Sirius was glad.  He hated his brother."  He sighed.  "But Sirius himself had escaped that.  He had such reckless courage."

"Yes, and if I recall correctly, his family chucked him out for it," Draco said, with a shadow of his old sneer.  "Such a Gryffindor."

Remus smiled.  "Yes, he was the essence of all that is Gryffindor."  He felt a swift rush of pride for Sirius.

"My father is the essence of all that is Slytherin," Draco said, and his voice was small.  He looked at Remus, looked away again quickly.  "He is very miserable, isn't he?  In Az--in that place."

"Sirius told me that Azkaban is the coldest, most horrible place in the world," Remus said.  He wished there were some way to make it easier, make it prettier.  But Azkaban was ugly.  Even for people like Lucius Malfoy, Azkaban was ugly.  Draco shivered.

"I—He's my father," he said plaintively.

Remus, greatly daring, reached out, touched Draco's forearm with two fingers.  "Yes."

Draco stood up quickly.  "I came to buy my mother's Christmas present.  Since Father won't be able to.  I have to go."

Remus sat at the table and watched the young man stride away.

~*~

_And when I chose to live  
There was no joy, it's just a line I crossed  
It wasn't worth the pain my death would cost  
So I was not lost or found_

  
New Year's Eve was, oddly, more difficult without Sirius than Christmas had been.  Perhaps it was because New Year's Eve was the death of something.  His friends tried to politely include him in their plans, but he was not in the mood for whist with Molly and Arthur, and he was too old to party with the teenagers.  He went to the Leaky Cauldron, where hopefully no one would recognize him and he could drink in the singular isolation that comes with being alone in a crowd.

He hadn't expected anyone to interrupt his solitude, but someone coughed nervously behind him.  He considered not turning around.  _Just pretend you didn't hear.  But the person coughed again, less quietly, and he turned to look._

Malfoy.

The boy looked belligerent, but he set a full tankard in front of Remus and put another one down in front of the empty seat next to Remus, and then he put himself in the seat.  He met Remus' eyes and took a long sip of his drink.  His eyes were full of pain, but they never looked away.  Remus noted, inanely, that he smelled of tobacco and cinnamon gum.  He stared at Draco, unable to find a single word in the tumult that was his mind.

"Are you old enough to drink that stuff?" he asked finally, his voice faint.

"I was sixteen this August," Draco replied, "And I've had to watch my father going mad.  I'd say I am."

Remus looked down at the scarred tabletop.  He had no response to that, either.

"What's so great about your side?" Malfoy burst out suddenly, his voice low but vehement.  "What's so great about good guys who will lock someone up to go mad with their worst memories?  Why do you think you people have the monopoly on goodness and love?"

Remus breathed in slowly through his nose, noticed again the scent of cinnamon, mingled faintly with apprehension.  "I wish I knew, Draco," he said, trying to keep his voice gentle.

"Well, I don't want any part of it," Draco said simply.  "Not that.  I want You-Know-Who dead, more than anything.  But I don't want anything to do with your stupid Ministry or that old crackpot Dumbledore and his cronies."

"Sirius was one of those cronies," Remus said mildly.

"And see where it got him!" Draco exclaimed.

Draco had a point.  Remus bit back the anger that had flashed through him.  Why defend Dumbledore?  He had felt much the same ever since Sirius' death—before, even.  Why had Dumbledore not given Sirius something to do?  Why had Dumbledore even allowed Sirius to be sent to Azkaban in the first place?  And why had Dumbledore never confided in Harry?  No, he would not defend Dumbledore.

"I understand.  Dumbledore keeps his secrets.  And Sirius—"

Crimson raced along Draco's cheekbones and he looked down.  "I—I didn't—"

"No.  It's all right."

Draco looked up again, the tension fading from his face.  The rest of the pub's patrons began counting down to midnight.

"Draco," Remus said, unsure how to say it.  "If you—I—You could send me an owl, if you ever—ever wanted to talk."

"You wouldn't mind?"

"I'd like it."

~*~

_And if I was to sleep  
I knew my family had more truth to tell  
And so I traveled down a whispering well  
To know myself through them   
  
_The last week of January, Remus was startled into spilling his morning tea across the _Daily Prophet _when a huge eagle owl swooped in through the kitchen window.  It dropped an envelope precisely in front of Remus and then swooped back out.  Remus glanced at the envelope and sniggered.  It was classic Malfoy:  R. Lupin, Wherever-the-Hell-He-Is, London. LOL

"Oh, is that a letter from Harry?"  Remus spilled his tea again.  Molly had come into the kitchen and was beaming at him.  Frantically he reached for a towel, hiding the letter at the same time.

"Ah, no.  Not from Harry."  He quelled his urge to add "What's it to you?" and swiped at the puddle on the table.  He contemplated the _Prophet until Molly bustled back out of the kitchen, then he tore open the envelope._

Typically, the note was terse.  "Lupin – You never told me what happened to Regulus Black.  Draco."

Remus was simultaneously eager and apprehensive to write back.  Obviously Draco had little faith in Remus to do so, because the eagle owl hadn't waited for a response.  That only made Remus all the more determined to respond correctly.

Later that evening he sent Sirius' old owl Orion with a letter, three pages closely-written with his precise hand.  Regulus Black's story was a sad one, and Remus wanted to make sure he got it into the proper perspective, that of a boy wanting to please his family, and making the wrong decisions—and how Sirius had escaped that.  But oh, would Draco see it?

~*~

_Growing up, my mom had a room full of books  
And hid away in there  
Her father raging down a spiral stair  
Till he found someone  
Most days his son  
  
_

The next letter came in the middle of February.  Remus had lived through Valentine's Day without Sirius, gritting his teeth because Arthur had given Molly a Valentine that was charmed to sing, albeit off-key, about true love.  Remus had locked himself into the bedroom he had shared with Sirius, and tried very hard not to think about either Sirius Black or Draco Malfoy.

"Lupin – I see the point you're trying to make about Regulus Black, but could you not shove it down my throat with a fire poker?  Sometimes you bloody Gryffindors make me want to vomit.  Life isn't as easy as you think it is.  Not when you're the sole heir to a house that's been in service to the Dark for as long as it's existed, just about.  Hell, if I'd been sorted anything but Slytherin, my father would've disowned me.  If he didn't kill me.  Right, that's enough, this letter is ending.  Malfoy."

Remus studied the letter, noting how the handwriting become--not sloppy, Draco was too meticulous for that--but tenser, tighter, towards the end.  Obviously he was unhappy that he'd shared that much, but at the same time, he must have wanted Remus to know that, or he would have rewritten the letter.  Remus smiled.  It was a privilege, to be allowed to see that.

The letter he sent back was four pages long.

~*~

_And sometimes I think  
My father, too, was a refugee  
I know they tried to keep their pain from me  
They could not see what it was for_

The next letter arrived two weeks before the Easter holiday.  Draco's writing was more relaxed throughout the letter--all five sentences of it.

"Lupin - Of course I realized Sirius was the last of the Blacks.  Daft man, d'you think I don't know my own family tree?  Rubbish.  Are you going to be home over the Easter holidays?  Would you chuck me out if I followed Potter home?  Draco."

Chuck him out?  Draco would leave his family and burn those bridges?  Remus breathed a disbelieving prayer of gratitude.  Had he won that easily?  It couldn't be that easy.  But he cast his thoughts back over the past six months.  No, it hadn't been easy, had it?  Not really.

"Draco – Yes, I will be home.  No, I won't chuck you out.  But don't follow Harry too closely.  He's a little bit hex-happy these days.  Looking forward to seeing you.  Remus."

He imagined Draco opening the letter, reading it.  Snorting with laughter at the remark about Harry.  He felt vaguely disloyal to his godson, but shoved the thought out of his mind.

~*~

_But now I'm sleeping fine  
Sometimes the truth is like a second chance  
I am the child of a great romance  
And they are the children of the war_

And Platform Nine and Three Quarters saw the moment where Remus had to decide how much courage he had in him.  There were Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys.  And there, one carriage further up, was Draco.  Harry was not looking at Remus.  Harry was never looking at Remus.  He had gone too long without a father-figure in his life; there was no room for Remus to take that place now.  Remus walked past Harry, past the others, and went to meet Draco.

"Lupin.  You really are here."  Draco's voice was wondering.

"Of course.  You can rely on me, Draco."

Draco nodded slowly, but said nothing.  He fell in beside Remus as they walked back towards the barrier.  He walked with the arrogant grace that he always exhibited.  He  swung his hands freely at his sides, and he allowed his knuckles to brush Remus' hand, then leaned casually against the barrier and disappeared into Muggle London.

Remus made to follow, but his elbow was suddenly seized in an iron grip.

"Did I just see that?" Harry hissed, his green eyes narrow as he glared at him.  "Did you just _talk to Draco Malfoy?"_

Remus felt his anger rising, but answered mildly.  "He is human, Harry."

"Couldn't prove it by me."  Harry's voice was cold, and there was judgment in his gaze.  Judgment of Remus, as much as of Draco.

"Yes, well, it's a good job no one asked you to, then, isn't it?" Remus asked shortly.  He was too tired.  Tired of pretending he was whole, tired of pretending to be the patient one, the bookish one.  He was just too tired.  "I don't believe my personal life concerns you, Harry.  Not unless it renders me unfit to take your godfather's place."

"No one can take my godfather's place!" Harry flared.

Remus sucked in a breath, feeling as if he'd been punched.  Harry stared at him, his face going white, then released Remus' arm.  He looked down at the platform, and after a moment Remus turned and went through the barrier.

No, no one _could_ take Sirius' place.  That simply wasn't possible.  But Sirius was dead, and Remus still lived.  And there was nothing that could change that.  And Remus could still make the best of life as it was.

Remus and Draco walked steadily, not hurrying, but not lingering.  They didn't speak.  Remus should have been apprehensive about what he was going to do, but he had already decided that he had more confidence in himself than he did in Dumbledore.  So when they reached Grimmauld Place, he handed a slip of paper to Draco.

"Memorize that address."

"Hardly difficult," Draco replied with the faintest touch of scorn.

"It's unPlottable.  If you don't know the address, you'll never even see the house."

Draco looked up from the paper to stare at him.  "You—you would trust me with that?" he whispered.  His pale eyes glistened with something.

Remus lifted a hand to touch Draco's chin.  "With my life, Draco."

"What if I decide not to stay?" the young man challenged.

Remus' heart skipped, though he knew—he knew—Draco would not decide that.  "Then that's your decision to make.  I trust you."

They went inside, and Draco was very quiet as he followed Remus to the sunny sitting room next to Remus' room.  Remus went through the steadying ritual of making tea, pouring a cup for Draco, a cup for himself.  Then he sat down next to Draco and looked closely at him.

"Your letters—"  Draco paused.  "I never said, but…they really were…good to read.  I mean, good for me.  I—thanks."

Remus smiled slightly.  "I think the letters I wrote to Harry rather drove him mad."

Draco sneered.  He was clearly more comfortable with scorn than gratitude.  "Then Potter doesn't know what he's missing."

Remus shook his head, smiling slightly.  He took a sip of tea, swallowed it slowly, relishing the warmth spreading through him.  He realized that it had been a long time since he'd resorted to putting Firewhisky in his tea.

"You look exhausted."

The personal observation obviously surprised Draco.  He stared at Remus with a look of affront on his face.  "Oh, I like that!  You don't look so good yourself, you know."  He folded his arms across his chest and looked away, then glanced back at him.  "Though at least you're not quite death warmed over, the way you were at the holidays."

"Why thank you," Remus said dryly.

"I don't have the nightmares anymore, at least," he said suddenly, his voice low.  "I don't--I don't dream of him…"  He looked down, scrubbed at his eyes in an embarrassed gesture.  "I used to dream of moonlight on prison bars.  And my father--"

Remus put a gentle hand on Draco's shoulder.  He didn't say anything, because the words didn't exist that would soothe that pain.  But perhaps his simple presence could, somewhat.

~*~

Remus was sure the Easter holiday had been shorter when he was a boy.  A week spent as a shield between Draco and the rest of the house was enough to exhaust him.  Harry spent the entire week snubbing Remus, and ignoring Draco entirely.  When everyone sat around the dinner table each night, Molly and Arthur kept the conversation going, awkwardly, while the Weasley children glared at Draco, Harry ignored him, and Hermione looked from face to face with a desperate expression, and talked in a voice high-pitched with mild hysteria.

Well, he had known this was going to be difficult.  Remus was unfailingly pleasant to everyone in equal measures, reining in his impulse to snap at Harry when he was rude, his impulse to ask Arthur if he was doing the wrong thing.  He tried not to resent Molly for treating Draco as if he were simply another waif she'd taken under her wings; at least, he did until he caught her asking Arthur why "that Malfoy" was even here.

All in all, though, Remus felt his protection must have worked, because Draco, for his part, seemed completely unconscious of the fact that Harry spent every waking moment hating him.  He spent most of his time either in his room, or in the sitting room he shared with Remus, or--when the weather allowed--in the garden.  The cleansing of the house had been accomplished long ago (though of course they still found an occasional Boggart or Dark object) so there was little work to be done.

Of course all of the young people had plenty of class work they'd brought home with them, and Remus made certain Draco's got done, and left Harry to Hermione's stern management.  He also took this opportunity to give Draco books he thought the young man would enjoy—books about Slytherins who _hadn't_ served Dark Lords, books about Slytherins who had lived with honour.  And a few books about Gryffindors, just to be fair.

He realized, as the week progressed and the very presence of Draco in his sitting room healed him, that he had come to care very deeply for the young man.  No, that wasn't entirely true.  He had come to love him.

_Well the sun rose with so many colors   
It nearly broke my heart  
And worked me over like a work of art  
And I was a part of all that_

When it was time to see the young people off at King's Cross Station once more, Remus and Draco walked back with everyone else.  They talked casually of things that didn't matter, and Remus carefully refrained from asking Draco if he would come back after Summer Term.

Hermione's parents met the group a little ways from the station, and Ron and Hermione walked with them, a bit apart from the rest of the group.  Remus imagined Ron would be speaking to her parents about marriage someday in the not-to-distant future, and he was relieved that he felt more glad for them than jealous.

Fred and George had come from the joke shop to see them off as well.  The twins saw Draco and laughed, as if his presence among their family were a great joke.  They, Harry, and Ginny, were walking just ahead of Remus and Draco.  They were telling obnoxious jokes and laughing loudly, and once Draco surprised Remus by laughing at one of Fred's lewder punchlines.  It surprised Remus even more when Harry threw a not-entirely-hostile glance over his shoulder, and Fred looked at Draco in an almost-friendly manner.

After going through the barrier, Draco touched Remus' elbow, then drew back again.  "Thank you," he said.  "For the week.  For the books."  He shrugged.  "For everything."  He cocked his head and looked at him winningly.  "I might even come back.  Once Summer Term is finished.  We'll see.  You'll have to write to me and convince me."

Remus blinked, but before he could respond, Draco had hailed Pansy Parkinson--hand-in-hand with a lean, goateed Blaise Zabini--and was gone.

~*~

  
_So go ahead, push your luck  
Say what it is you've got to say to me  
We will push on into that mystery  
And it'll push right back  
And there are worse things than that   
  
_

It actually required very little convincing for Draco to agree to come back.  Remus wrote a letter that said, "Will you?" and Draco responded, "I rather think I shall.  Pansy seemed to think I deserved congratulations, though I can't imagine why."

But waiting at King's Cross, Remus had the distinct feeling that he surely must be pushing his luck.  He was nearly forty, and had just a year ago seen his lover die, and now he was awaiting the Hogwarts Express because he had been encouraged to court his godson's worst enemy.

Court?

Well, that's what it was, wasn't it?  No matter what noble terms he wanted to dress it in, he was courting Draco Malfoy.  Courting him for the side of the Light, courting him for the sake of foiling Voldemort's schemes.  Courting him to fill an aching void that Sirius had left in his--  In his what?  His heart?  His bed?

Remus growled in frustration and put his hands in his robe pockets to keep from fiddling with his collar any longer.

He didn't know how Harry would react to having Draco as a permanent fixture at Grimmauld Place; Dumbledore had agreed that after a week at the Dursleys, Harry should move to the Order Headquarters for the rest of the summer.  Their final summer, before they left school and were members of the Order in earnest.  That thought caused a pang, though Remus knew status didn't matter; Harry had proved you didn't have to be a full member of the Order to be in danger.

He thought he would insist, this summer, that they be made full members a year early.  Perhaps it would reflect his trust in Harry.  Perhaps not, but he had to try.

_'Cause for every price  
And every penance that I could think of  
It's better to have fallen in love  
Than never to have fallen at all  
  
_

It surprised Remus to see all of them get off the train together.  Ron and Hermione first, followed by Ginny and Harry, Neville, Luna, and last of all--Draco.  Luna turned to speak to him, and Draco didn't exactly smile at her, but he wasn't sneering either.  The entire group came to where Remus was standing with Arthur and Moody, and Harry offered Remus a small smile of greeting.

They walked back to Grimmauld Place in a riot of conversation, in which everyone participated except Remus and Draco.  They walked amid the others, but Remus couldn't think of a single thing to say, and Draco seemed content with silence.

Once they had arrived at the headquarters, Molly sent them all upstairs to freshen up while she cooked tea.  Remus took Draco back to the room he'd had before, that adjoined Remus' parlour.  He thought it best to keep Draco and Harry apart still, even if his godson didn't look like killing the Slytherin anytime soon.

The room had been redecorated in the time since Easter.  He'd had the walls painted a light grey, and done the draperies in green.  Sirius would've--well, if he'd had a grave, Sirius would've rolled over in it.  But it pleased Remus, and he hoped it would please Draco.

The young man's reaction was more than he could have hoped for.  He stopped on the threshold of the room and stared at it for a moment.  Then he looked very hard at the carpet, which was also green.

"You really won't chuck me out?" Draco whispered.  "Because—because—"  He choked and quit speaking.

"I couldn't.  I need you, Draco.  I would've thought you'd noticed that."

Draco tilted his head.  "Sirius ran away from home when he was sixteen," he said.  "Did he run away because he was in love with you, too?"

He shrugged.  "If he was, he never told me.  Not then."  Then he realized what Draco had said.  Could he—could he possibly…But then, it was easy to mistake admiration, trying to please someone, for love.  He rather thought Draco had encouraged Remus to court him…but he wasn't prepared to act on it yet.  So much for Gryffindor courage.

Draco had been chewing one lip thoughtfully.  His eyes were intense with some emotion Remus couldn't identify.  "How long will you let me stay?"

Remus blinked.  "You may stay as long as you like.  This is your home now, if you want."

Draco leaned against the door frame with a small noise, closing his eyes.  Finally he opened them again.  "Thank you.  It's you who's made it that.  You, Remus."

Remus felt the tears running down his cheeks, as if Draco's speaking his name had released a dam inside his chest.  He tried to say something, but he couldn't, and then it didn't matter because Draco had moved closer and put his arms around Remus.  He buried his face in Remus' chest while the last remaining Marauder wept.

And finally Remus felt as if he might live again.

  
_'Cause when you live in a world  
Well it gets in to who you thought you'd be  
And now I laugh at how the world changed me  
I think life chose me after all_


End file.
